


it's not what i want but it had to be

by hyperandrogenism



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Coma, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Knitting, Post-The Transformers: Sins of the Wreckers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-The Transformers: Sins of the Wreckers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperandrogenism/pseuds/hyperandrogenism
Summary: "I took up knitting," Roadbuster says to an empty room. The only sounds are the monitors attached to Springer and the needles clicking together. "I thought I could make you something. And, y'know, not much else to do around here."No answer. There never will be one, but Roadbuster still hopes for one.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	it's not what i want but it had to be

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for sins and last stand!!
> 
> i think the whole roadbuster visiting comatose springer thing is really sweet but in like a really sad way. everything with roadbuster is sad but that especially. so this is way more depressing than i meant for it to be lmao youre welcome
> 
> i headcanon roadbuster as romance/sex repulsed aroace so this isnt a ship thing for anyone.
> 
> [little playlist for this](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJXffcSKWGn0AiDWRj_VRGQa1ytJUcJ2r) \+ [tumblr link if you wanna rb :)](https://himboimpactor.tumblr.com/post/621557519622520832/its-not-what-i-want-but-it-had-to-be-ao3-and)
> 
> (if youre hyperempathetic for objects, in this a kitted scarf, theres a short part in this that may be triggering)

The first time Roadbuster knits for Springer, the needles are slow and halting. He has to tear it out so many times, over and over, because the stitches are uneven or a stitch gets dropped or some other mistake is made.

"I took up knitting," Roadbuster says to an empty room. The only sounds are the monitors attached to Springer and the needles clicking together. "I thought I could make you something. And, y'know, not much else to do around here."

No answer. There never will be one, but Roadbuster still hopes for one.

When that hope is dashed again, for what has to be the thousandth time, Roadbuster's spark sinks a little. But he still keeps knitting, still keeps trying.

* * *

The next time Roadbuster sits down with a ball of yarn and knitting needles, there's a few rows on the needles already. "I didn't know what I could make you, so I'm making a blanket. It's cold in here," he says, picking up the needles and getting to work. He's a bit more confident, a little faster. "It's blue. I think that's your favorite color, that's what you used to like."

No answer. Just the beep of the machines and the clicking of the needles.

It's peaceful, in that dark little room. Roadbuster hopes Springer isn't aware, isn't dreaming, for his own sake. He hopes Springer is in that limbo the medics had said he was, that everything's as quiet inside as it looks from the outside.

* * *

Sometimes Impactor joins him. Impactor doesn't bring anything, just sits there with his elbows on his knees and watches Springer. He doesn't visit Springer often, but when he does he's there for hours. Completely still, just watching Springer's chest rise and fall from the ventilator.

The few times Roadbuster's tried to talk to Impactor when they're here together, Impactor snaps at him to shut up. It stings, but Roadbuster leaves Impactor alone. Roadbuster understands what he needs, and if that doesn't include Roadbuster then that's okay. 

They sit in near-silence, both alone and not alone at the same time.

* * *

The knitting is calming. It's something for Roadbuster's servos to do, something that requires concentration.

More often than he comes in and sits, Impactor paces the hall outside Springer's room. Roadbuster figures it's the same idea as the knitting; something to keep him moving, to keep the anxiety, the fear, at bay.

Roadbuster knits things for Impactor too. A few scarves, a blanket, simple things. On good days, Impactor is thankful. On bad days, gifts run the risk of sending Impactor into a rage. Roadbuster had tried to calm him with a scarf once, get him to hold the soft garment and maybe have it ground him a bit, but it hadn't worked. That scarf had ended up torn, thrown on the floor, with Impactor stalking away for a drone to take his anger out on.

Roadbuster had cried. Alone in his hab suite, he had mourned the friendship they used to have.

He wishes he could help. He wishes him and Impactor were still close, were still friends like before. But something changed after Garrus 9, something's a bit more broken, and Impactor doesn't want his help anymore.

So he keeps knitting for Springer, holding out for when Impactor wants him again and when Springer wakes up.

* * *

In the last moments, when he hears Tarantulas, when pure terror flashes through his veins, Roadbuster thinks of his knitting. How if the _Debris_ is destroyed then it'll all be gone, it'll all be for nothing. If he had more time he would think that's funny, that that's what he thinks about when he's about to die, but as it is he doesn't have the chance.

Then Roadbuster's spark is extinguished and he's gone, and he can't worry about anything anymore.

* * *

Springer fingers the blanket, tracing the rows and columns. It's a small blanket, it would only cover his lap. He'd seen it when he woke up, had sensed that it was something important and threw it in his subspace.

"He made that for ya." Springer looks up, seeing Kup in the door. Kup chews on his cygar, leaning against the doorframe. "Roadbuster, I mean. Took 'im a month."

The grief gets a little more suffocating. Springer looks back down at the blanket, holding it tightly in his servos. He doesn't answer, but Kup comes in to sit next to him. Springer shifts over, leaning on Kup a bit, and Kup puts an arm around his shoulders even though Springer is twice his size.

"Everything's different." Springer holds the blanket up to his face, bunching it up and pressing it to his mouth, hiding in the soft fabric like a sparkling. "Everything's _different_. Roadbuster's dead, Impactor's gone, everyone else is dead or gone." He looks up at Kup. "It's just us. Us and Verity."

Kup sighs. "I know," he soothes, rubbing Springer's back, "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> harass me on tumblr [@himboimpactor](himboimpactor.tumblr.com)


End file.
